


Mistletoe

by gretawhy



Category: NSYNC
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-04-13
Updated: 2017-04-13
Packaged: 2018-10-18 06:30:09
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 725
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10611180
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/gretawhy/pseuds/gretawhy





	

He stared at the sprig of mistletoe between his thumb and middle finger, twirling it around lazily as he stared. Such a simple thing, this mistletoe, but yet such meaning, such symbolism, such joy was put into it that it made it much more than the simple green sprig. It could bring laughter, it could bring tears.

“It could bring nothing,” he muttered, throwing it on his desk, the red string he attached to it spilling behind.

He sighed as he turned the office chair around, looking at the door. He cocked his head, he supposed he could hang it over that door, no one ever stopped in the doorway. He wouldn’t be forced to kiss someone he didn’t want to, and he wouldn’t be too hopeful the one person he did want to kiss would stop there.

Standing, he picked the mistletoe up on his way to the door, dragging a chair behind him. Standing on the chair, he fastened the sprig to the ceiling using a paperclip to secure the string to the tile. Stepping back, he admired his work and rolled his eyes. No one ever stopped in this doorway, he was safe.

Settling behind his desk, he opened his laptop, pulling up email for his company, and reviewing current projects that were in the works. Minutes faded into hours, but he had no concept of time as he worked, taking advantage of the quiet in the house to get more accomplished than he originally hoped.

He was pulled out of his work by a knock on his office door. Glancing first at the clock, then at the door, he called, “Come on in.”

He looked up from his desk to see JC in the doorway. As usual, he looked amazing. He was leaning against the doorjamb, his wiry arms crossed in front of him, covered in a tan turtleneck. His jeans were rolled at the bottom in typical JC fashion, black boots on his feet. He was growing a goatee, something that suited his chiseled features well.

Something that never failed to drive Lance crazy with lust.

“You almost done?” JC asked, pushing himself off the doorframe and crossing the room. “Everyone’s here.”

Lance nodded, turning off his laptop and pushing paper to the side. “Yeah, let’s go.” He picked his jacket up from the back of his chair, moving to the doorway as he slipped it on.

“Hey Lance,” JC’s voice stopped him at the door.

Lance turned around, his hands fixing the collar of his jacket. “Yeah?” he asked absently.

“You’re under mistletoe.”

Lance’s hands stopped their motions. He slowly moved his gaze from the floor up JC’s body. JC was leaning against the edge of Lance’s desk, a sly grin on his face.

Lance swallowed thickly. “Yeah.”

JC pushed off the desk, holding Lance’s gaze as he slowly sauntered across the room, liquid gold. “You know what that means.”

Lance felt butterflies in his stomach, and goddamn if he couldn’t tear his eyes away from JC’s oceans. “What?” he managed.

“You must be kissed.” JC stopped right in front of him.

Lance laughed nervously, “Really, Jayce, it’s no big deal.” He waved his hand, “You don’t have to.”

JC grinned, his blue eyes twinkling, “Yes I do. I stopped you here for a reason, and I intend on taking advantage of that. Now, shut up, and let me kiss you.”

Lance couldn’t reply before JC’s lips were on his. He closed his surprised eyes and tilted his head, allowing JC to kiss him fully. JC brought his hands up and grasped Lance’s jacket collar, pulling him closer. Caught off guard by the motion, Lance steadied himself by holding JC’s hips.

His breath was literally caught in his throat, the shock of JC’s mouth on his still hadn’t worn off, even after the slight moisture of the tip of JC’s tongue licked at Lance’s lips, and he opened his mouth to take it in. He slid his hands from JC’s hips to his waist, pulling him closer, and JC’s hands moved across Lance’s chest and around his back, the fingers tangling in the hair at Lance’s neck.

Pulling away, JC looked at Lance with hooded eyes. “Merry Christmas, Lance.”

"Merry Christmas, JC,” he responded.

Bringing his lips to JC’s once again, Lance wondered why he ever doubted the mistletoe.


End file.
